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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25054687">hashtag zoo trip</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenyLove/pseuds/GreenyLove'>GreenyLove</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>twitter threads [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Crush, Bad Flirting, Boys Kissing, M/M, Protective Kuroo Tetsurou, Social Media, Texting, Zoo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 00:27:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,978</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25054687</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenyLove/pseuds/GreenyLove</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, at least it was supposed to be a low-key outing, featuring Tsukishima and the three upperclassmen he (reluctantly) calls his friends.  </p><p>Now? A low-key outing to the zoo with all of his dumb friends becomes an outing with...just Tsukishima and Bokuto. </p><p>Bokuto and Tsukishima. Alone at the zoo. All day. </p><p>Tsukishima presses his face into the pillow and screams. </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bokuto Koutarou/Tsukishima Kei</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>twitter threads [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1814404</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>234</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>hashtag zoo trip</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>adapted from a thread originally shared on <a href="https://twitter.com/greenywrites">twitter</a></p><p>this fandom needs way more bokutsukki and I'm just here to help fill the void</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Tsukishima wakes up on Saturday, he checks his phone and considers going right back to sleep until tomorrow. </p><p>It’s never a good sign when Hinata texts him. </p><p><strong>hinata (don’t answer) </strong><em>(7:27):</em> no fair stingyshima!!! I wanna spend the whole day with bokuto senpai!!!!</p><p>Attached is a screenshot of what appears to be one of Bokuto’s social media profiles. The latest post features Bokuto, shirtless, giving the camera a thumbs up as he smiles smugly. In the background, Akaashi reclines on the bed, peering unhappily at a thermometer. Even in the photo he looks flushed and ill. The lump beneath the covers next to him is unmistakably Kuroo, a bright blue cold pack nested in his bed head. </p><p><strong>bokutobeamtaro</strong> (<em>9:42):</em> these two losers are sick but I feel AMAZING so #ZOOTRIP is still on!!!!!!!!!!!! get ready @tsukiceraptor27 for the BEST BRO DAY EVER!!! </p><p>Oh no. </p><p>“Fuck me,” Tsukishima groans.</p><p>How did Kuroo and Akaashi both get sick? Why is Bokuto always shirtless in his selfies? Why does a low-key outing to the zoo need its own fucking hashtag? </p><p>Or, at least it was supposed to be a low-key outing, featuring Tsukishima and the three upperclassmen he (reluctantly) calls his friends. The plans evolved as they always did: Kuroo wanted to go, Kuroo got Bokuto riled up, Bokuto absolutely had to go or he would die, Akaashi agreed to go if they promised to stop screaming about it in the middle of the food court, and Tsukishima agreed to go because...well, fomo is a bitch.   </p><p>Now? A low-key outing to the zoo with all of his dumb friends becomes an outing with...just Tsukishima and Bokuto. </p><p>Tsukishima, who is sullen and reserved. Who generally keeps his thoughts to himself unless provoked, and then he says too much. Who attracts a lot of people because he’s tall and athletic and honestly, a brat. Who sends all his suitors away when they can’t handle the bite. Who only knows how to love with his teeth.</p><p>Bokuto, who is loud and has no filter and also no shame. Who ruins songs with his dumb made up lyrics. Who asks too many questions. Who has a lot of moods and emotions that he shamelessly exposes to the world. Who is built like he could rip you apart unarmed but underneath the stacked muscles is a dumbass who can’t walk past a dog without asking for its entire life story. </p><p>Bokuto and Tsukishima. Alone at the zoo. All day. </p><p>Tsukishima presses his face into the pillow and screams. </p><p> </p><p># </p><p> </p><p>A text from Kuroo greets him when he steps out of the shower. </p><p><strong>kuroo</strong> <em>(10:17):</em> if you flake out on bo I WILL sell your headphones and donate the funds to flat earthers </p><p>Tsukishima rolls his eyes. Kuroo can’t see him, but it’s a matter of principle.</p><p><strong>kei</strong> <em>(10:18):</em> uncalled for<br/>
<strong>kei</strong> <em>(10:18):</em> I’m not flaking <br/>
<strong>kei</strong> <em>(10:20):</em> tickets are non refundable </p><p><strong>kuroo</strong> <em>(10:22):</em> ur a ball of whimsy per usual <br/>
<strong>kuroo</strong> <em>(10:23):</em> look bo is rly rly excited <br/>
<strong>kuroo</strong> <em>(10:23):</em> so be nice <br/>
<strong>kuroo</strong> <em>(10:23):</em> do not ruin hashtag zoo trip </p><p><strong>kei</strong> <em>(10:24):</em> did you seriously spell out hashtag </p><p><strong>kuroo</strong> <em>(10:24):</em> I know what I said </p><p><strong>kei</strong> <em>(10:26):</em> I won’t ruin anything. I’m fucking delightful company <br/>
<strong>kei</strong> <em>(10:27):</em> drink some soup and stop harassing me</p><p><strong>kuroo</strong> <em>(10:27):</em> drink??? DRINK soup?? <br/>
<strong>kuroo</strong> <em>(10:27):</em> I worry about you tsukki-chan </p><p><strong>kei</strong> <em>(10:28):</em> fuck off </p><p><strong>kuroo</strong> <em>(10:28):</em> have fun~! &lt;3 &lt;3 <br/>
<strong>kuroo</strong> <em>(10:28):</em> #ZOOTRIP</p><p> </p><p># </p><p> </p><p>Tsukishima waits by the ticket gates and tells himself he is not nervous. There is no reason to be nervous. He and Bokuto have existed in the same friend group for years. Bokuto has watched him cry uncontrollably during The Land Before Time and Tsukishima has watched Bokuto win a karaoke competition directly after downing four whisky shots and chasing them with pickle brine. They are not strangers. </p><p>And yet on the train ride uptown, Tsukishima struggles to recall the last time he spent time with Bokuto without the buffering presence of Kuroo and Akaashi. </p><p>Have they ever, like, been alone? </p><p>They don’t share many hobbies beyond volleyball. </p><p>They don’t share a major or any gen ed classes. </p><p>They don’t even text that often outside the group chat. Their solo message thread is an infrequently updated chronicle of candid wildlife photos, which Bokuto then asks Tsukishima to identify, even though the blond has explained countless times that naming random bird species off the cuff is not what being a wildlife and conservation biology major trains him to do. </p><p>Fuck, this is going to be weird. </p><p>“Tsukki!” </p><p>Bokuto jogs towards him, waving a thick arm over his head. He wears his usual black compression leggings under his shorts —  along with the ugliest shirt Tsukishima has ever seen. It’s highlighter pink and covered in palm fronds and some round things that are either fruits or sad dogs. </p><p>A dozen snide ways to express his revulsion run through his mind. Along with a wash of bubble-bath warmth down his spine at the provocative sight of Bokuto’s collarbones, exposed by the neck of that heinous shirt. The urge to grab Bokuto and demand to know who authorized this wardrobe choice intensifies. </p><p>But then he thinks of Kuroo, automatically assuming that he would ruin the day, and grits his teeth. He will say nothing about The Shirt. Anything he says will upset Bokuto, and Kuroo <em> expects </em> Tsukishima to ruin the day. Well, Kuroo is an ass, and Kuroo is wrong. Tsukishima will prove it.   </p><p>Bokuto reaches him. “Sorry, I almost got off on the wrong stop. Did you wait for a long time? I know you’re usually early....”  </p><p>“No, it was fine.” If he doesn’t look directly at The Shirt, he can survive this. He shoves his hands into his pockets and nods towards the front gates. “Shall we?” </p><p>“Yeah! Oh wait!” A warm hand grabs his gently, fingers almost wrapping completely around his bicep, tugging him to a stop. “Photo op!” </p><p>Bokuto throws an arm —  a thick, heavy arm —  around his shoulder, his free hand angling his phone for a selfie. The angle is awkward: Tsukishima is tall but Bokuto is so wide, his chest dominates the foreground. He has to fully extend his arm to get a good shot. The shutter clicks and Bokuto shows him the result. Their faces are off center. Bokuto grins, happy wrinkles around his eyes, while Tsukishima looks impassive except for the distressed widening of his pupils. Bokuto’s arm looks huge against his slender neck. </p><p>“Good one!” Bokuto chirps, releasing him. His fingers fly across the screen as they start towards the gate. “Thanks, Tsukki. Promised Kuroo I’d post proof that you showed.” </p><p>Tsukishima huffs. Frowns, ignoring the burning in his ears. “I wasn’t going to flake.”</p><p>“I never doubted you!” Bokuto grins again, playfully punching him in the shoulder. Tsukishima abs hurt, trying not to stumble. Goddamn, Bokuto is strong. “Come on, come on!” </p><p>The ticket lines are blessedly short. A plucky adult with too much enthusiasm scans the barcode on Tsukishima’s phone and stamps the insides of their wrists. On the other side the narrow lines open up into a broad brick plaza soaked in midday sun. Two men haggle at the stroller rental while three children climb all over a model shaped like an elephant. Across the way, there’s a gift shop, and directly ahead, an information kiosk shaped like a cartoonish jungle hut, manned by a teen in a safari hat who pops their gum and yearns for death. </p><p>There are two main thoroughfares, stretching in opposite directions. Tsukishima stops to get his bearings but, of course, Bokuto does not, zipping towards the kiosk. </p><p>“Oh! Do you think they have a map? Let’s get a map!”  </p><p>Tsukishima grimaces. “Oh my god, we don’t need a map.”  </p><p>Bokuto grabs a map. He plants his feet and unfolds it, scanning the brightly rendered biomes with narrowed golden eyes. Cloudless skies and sunshine bring The Shirt to an electric level. </p><p>Tsukishima pinches his nose. “You look like a dad on vacation.” </p><p>A tense moment, where Tsukishima braces himself for frowns and whining. Bokuto looks at The Shirt, then the map. He tips his head back and laughs through his chest. “You’re right!” </p><p>Then those golden eyes drag up and down Tsukishima. Before the blond can explain that Bokuto does not need to return his analysis, the older man announces, “Well, you look like an angsty teenager!” </p><p>Tsukishima looks down at his skinny cords and band shirt, the doc martens and the leather bracelets. “Shut up.”  </p><p>Another cackle. Bokuto claps him on the shoulder and says, seriously, “Don’t worry. I’ll be the father you deserve.” </p><p>Tsukishima nearly swallows his tongue. </p><p>Bokuto is relentless. “This will be the best zoo trip ever, son.”</p><p>“Wow.”</p><p>“Just leave it up to Dad and his trusty map.” </p><p>“Please stop.” </p><p>“Don’t talk to your father that way.” </p><p>“I regret everything.” But he doesn’t, he’s smirking. He coughs into his fist before he does something dramatic, like laugh out loud. </p><p>Sensing victory, Bokuto grins and flips down his sunglasses. He tucks the map in his pocket. Leads, and Tsukishima follows. </p><p>They start with the forested enclosures: shaded concrete pathways winding beneath a leafy canopy. Artificial walls of granite and limestone frame glass windows and open overlooks down into the enclosures. It feels as natural as it can be, knowing they are in the middle of a huge city, and the otters are playing with a dog toy that Tsukishima swears he also saw Yachi buy her Pomeranian last week. </p><p>Pandas, monkeys, a bald eagle. Bokuto is enthusiastic about every animal, openly earnest with his joy in a way that Tsukishima finds inaccessible. He likes to observe from a distance, likes to read the displays, hang back, let the young children get closer. Foolish of him to forget that Bokuto is a young child in the body of a six foot gym god. He keeps his arms crossed and tries to pretend they aren’t acquainted. </p><p>“Tsukki!” Bokuto waves frantically, jamming his finger against the glass separating him from a grassy enclosure where a litter of newborn timber wolves sleep in a pile. “One of them rolled over! Did you see it?” </p><p>Tries. And fails. </p><p>The path leads them through a botanical exhibit about invasive plant species, which visibly bores Bokuto, so they don’t linger. In truth, Tsukishima wants to stop, read the panels, but he knows Bokuto can be moody, and Tsukishima has never been called a soothing presence, so he’s fine with letting Bokuto set a pace that keeps him entertained.  </p><p>“Tigers!” he yells, his smile just as wide and eyes just as bright as they’ve been for every other creature on their tour. “Tsukki, look! I love tigers!”  </p><p>Tsukishima is a little bewildered at this point. Does he ever get tired? Bored? “You’ve said that every single animal.” </p><p>“Well,” Bokuto draws out, scratching the back of his head, “I like a lot of animals. Especially birds! Oh, well, and wolves, they’re super pretty. Augh, I guess I really like lions too, and...” </p><p>Tsukishima cuts him off before he can list off the entire animal kingdom. “So, you don’t have a favorite?” </p><p>Bokuto stops in the middle of the pathway, suddenly more serious than Tsukishima has ever seen him, off court. He looks at Tsukishima, leaf-shadow dancing across his handsome face. “Tsukki. I do have a favorite.”  </p><p>Mouth gone dry, Tsukishima shrugs. “You don’t have to show me, but…” He trails off. Looks away. A thousand yard stare of indifference. As if he isn’t holding his breath. </p><p>He doesn’t have to wait for long. Bokuto’s face splits into an eager smile. “Are you kidding? That’s the whole reason I wanted to come!” </p><p>“To see your favorite animal?” </p><p>“No, see my favorite animal with you.” Bokuto doesn’t hesitate, grabbing Tsukishima firmly by the wrist, tugging him forward. “Let’s go! I know exactly where they are.”  </p><p>Tsukishima wants to dig in his heels, to ask Bokuto to repeat that first bit, please. And also fucking explain why he’s been glued to the map like a tourist when he is now striding confidently down the pathway, barely looking at the signposts as they march past. </p><p>There’s something tangled in his chest and the sight of Bokuto’s broad back makes it worse.</p><p>Bokuto leads him out of the woods, down a broader, more crowded walkway where families and groups of school-aged children stroll in groups or single-file lines. A huge domed building looms in the distance (the reptile house, Tsukishima thinks) but Bokuto drags them off the path and down a ramp to a bright white building that almost hurts to look at, sunlight near blinding off the flat white siding. Tsukishima shields his eyes and relies entirely on Bokuto to bring them safely through the door. </p><p>They step into dim lighting and —  blessedly —  air conditioning, cold air chilling the sweat collected on his skin. It’s not crowded but they can’t stand in the entrance, so Bokuto leads them into the main room, a large hallway surrounded on either side by glass. Deep greenish water stops halfway up the glass, giving a bisected view of a habitat for —  </p><p>“Penguins?” </p><p>Bokuto smiles, gleeful. “Penguins!” </p><p>He adjusts his grip, sliding down to grab Tsukishima’s hand. They are not exactly holding hands. Just Bokuto’s huge, warm palm wrapped around Tsukishima’s long pale fingers. Insistent but gentle. Guiding him over to the wall of glass. </p><p>The habitat is simple, playful. Up top, penguins nest or preen on rocks. Below they can dive in and out of the water, waddling to the edge and diving in, a trail of white bubbles in their wake. Bokuto stands, face inches from the glass, watching them move with effortless grace. He hasn’t let go of Tsukishima’s hand. </p><p>The blond studies the birds, eyes narrowed. Penguins look so...uncoordinated, but he supposes there is something compelling about the way they swim. “Why are penguins your favorite?”  </p><p>“I couldn’t swim as a kid,” Bokuto admits. “I was actually pretty afraid of the water. But we went to the aquarium once, my mom and me, and saw this penguin show. They were so small, but they were such good swimmers.” He shoots Tsukishima a sheepish grin. “So I thought water couldn’t be that scary if these little guys could handle it. Then I became the best at swimming!” </p><p>Tsukishima snorts. “Why didn’t you join the swim team, then?” </p><p>Bokuto frowns, dead serious. “Because I play volleyball.” </p><p>“Right.” Tsukishima swallows thickly. “Dumb question.” </p><p>Bokuto grins, and looks back at the penguins, gasping in unabashed wonder when one glides close to the glass. Tsukishima looks away, hides his face. Bokuto’s logic is...endearing. Not annoying. </p><p>Bokuto is endearing. Has shared himself so openly. Wanted to share this part of himself specifically with Tsukishima, who has done nothing but trail along behind him all afternoon.</p><p>“Hey, uh,” he starts, clearing his throat, “you know this part of the zoo pretty well?”</p><p>“Yeah!” </p><p>“Know where the subtropical aquatics are?” </p><p>Bokuto blinks. “The what?” </p><p>Cute, fucking cute. “The warmer water fish. Coral reefs, and stuff?” </p><p>“Oh! Yeah! Follow me.” </p><p>He doesn’t let go of Tsukishima's hand, leading him out of the chilled penguin rooms and out the door on the far end. They cross a small courtyard filled with bromeliad and clivia and splashy hibiscus, and into a separate seafoam-green building. Inside the lights are low, blue-tinted, the carpet dark. Some kind of quiet white noise plays through the speakers. It feels like stepping out of the sunlight and into a submarine; the large windows like viewports into otherworldly, cerulean-soaked landscapes. </p><p>A whole different world, hushed and haunting. </p><p>Tsukishima glances around. There are tanks with tropical coral, clownfish and gobies darting through the fronds. Others have deep-sea coral groves, intricate pale gold structures that remind him of synaptic nerves. Bokuto hovers behind him, clearly taken aback by the almost reverent atmosphere. Now, it’s Tsukishima’s turn to pull Bokuto along. There has to be a tank of them, somewhere... </p><p>They round a bend and there they are. </p><p>It’s a floor-to-ceiling window. Beyond is nothing but clear water. The backdrop is a deep purple, giving the illusion of depths that stretch on endlessly. There’s no other decor, nothing to detract from the bewitching movements of the jellyfish inside. Bright orange bells, veined with crimson in the hood margin, undulating slowly through the water. Pale white oral arms spills like bridal lace behind them. Blood red lappets tangle and caress. They are soundless and serene. Tsukishima can’t control his smile. </p><p>Bokuto freezes, his mouth falling open in unfiltered wonder. Tsukishima clears his throat, pleased. “<em> Chrysaora pacifica. </em> Sea nettles.” His hands might be shaking. He might squeeze Bokuto’s a little tighter. “My favorite.” </p><p>“Wow, Tsukki.” He exhales softly, speaking in a normal, inside voice, which for Bokuto is quiet. “I love them.” He walks closer, studies them intensely. “They remind me of you.” </p><p>Tsukishima tries not to fidget. “Why?” </p><p>A thoughtful pause. “They look fragile, but I bet they can really sting. So...there’s more to them that you think.”</p><p>“Oh.” An awkward pause. “Nice.” </p><p>Tsukishima stares at the jellyfish. Does not look at Bokuto. Nice? That was so painful. He sounded like Kageyama. A horrified shudder runs through him. </p><p>“Are you cold?” Bokuto chirps. </p><p>Tsukishima’s face heats. “I’m fine.” </p><p>He expects Bokuto to grow restless, to list about and ask to move on. But they stand, side by side and hand in hand, watching the hypnotic creatures float through their dreamy alien world. The darkness of the hall and the peaceful music and the gentle motions of the jellies loosen the knots of anxiety in Tsukishima’s shoulders. He looks at the jellyfish but not at the jellyfish. Bokuto...surprises him. Tsukishima thinks about his excited smiles and his genuine joy and the weight of his large palm around his own. </p><p>A camera shutter clicks. Tsukishima whips his head in time to see Bokuto hastily lowering his cell phone. “Sorry!” he says. “Photo op!” </p><p>“It’s...fine,” Tsukishima says, stilted. Who was he to deny a man a photo of some ocean life. “Let’s keep going. We have the whole savannah next.” </p><p>They wander the rest of the zoo, stopping periodically for food, mostly for Bokuto’s sake. He’s a professional athlete and he eats like one. Unlike Tsukishima, who takes one look at how overpriced and unappealing everything in the food court is and grimaces, Bokuto buys and eats enough for three people. </p><p>He also refuses to move from their table by the water until Tsukishima accepts half his sandwich. Tsukishima grumbles and threatens to feed it to the ducks, hiding his smile in his drink.  </p><p>They are finally heading back towards the main gates, as the late afternoon sun turns everything orange and grey. “Gift shop!” Bokuto yells, startlingly nearby pigeons. “Gift shop, gift shop, gift shop.” </p><p>“I take it back.” They aren’t holding hands anymore, haven’t since they left the jellyfish. Tsukishima keeps his shoved firmly in his pockets. “You’re not a dad, you’re a child.” </p><p>Bokuto flexes an arm. His shirt sleeves audibly strain. “Children ain’t got gains like these!” </p><p>Don’t stare, don’t stare, he lectures himself, whilst staring. “Okay, fine. Weird uncle, then.” </p><p>Bokuto looks indignant, but their arrival at the gift shop distracts him. He throws open the doors with the gusto of a sugar addict arriving at the Wonka Factory. “Gift shop!” </p><p>Tsukishima isn’t sure how he can immediately lose track of someone as big and loud as Bokuto, but he does, that dip-dyed hair disappeared amongst the towering displays of animal plushies, hats, shirts, plastic toys, fake safari gear, commemorative frames, glossy photo books —  </p><p>“Tsukki. Tsukki. Tsukki, look at this, Tsukki.” </p><p>—  penguin ponchos? </p><p>Tsukishima bites the inside of his lip. </p><p>Bokuto approaches him wearing some kind of cross between a rain poncho and a children’s costume. It’s patterned black and white, exactly like a penguin, complete with a stiff, orange-yellow beak on the hood, extending out like a bill to shade the face. It would probably drown Tsukishima but on Bokuto it barely reaches his waist. His face crowds the opening, which squeezes around his broad forehead and square jaw. </p><p>He looks ridiculous, and beautiful, and so fucking thrilled with himself that Tsukishima almost burrows headfirst into a display of giant stuffed pandas just to have a moment alone. But he doesn’t, because Bokuto is smiling at him, adjusting the beak, spikes of his own black and white hair poking through —  </p><p>“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Tsukishima spits. He stomps towards Bokuto, long legs eating the distance between them, fists the folds of the goddamn penguin cape, and kisses him directly on the mouth. </p><p>It’s a simple kiss: just Tsukishima with his eyes screwed shut, pulse fluttering, pressing his mouth firmly against Bokuto, who stares cross-eyed, astonished. It’s a simple kiss for all of five seconds, before Bokuto’s hands cup his jaw and tilt his face. Before his lips pop away and come back, slick and smooth and confident. Tsukishima groans and licks him and Bokuto licks back and then nothing, nothing is simple anymore. </p><p>Bokuto tastes like chapstick. And then he tastes like pizza, and lemonade, and sunscreen, and finally he tastes like Bokuto. Like warm rain and mint. Tsukishima stumbles forward in his haste to count all of his teeth. Unshakable as a mountain, Bokuto takes his weight, two thick arms secured around Tsukishima’s narrow frame. </p><p>“Tsukki,” Bokuto breathes, sabotaging all of Tsukishima’s efforts by smiling, laughing against his vicious mouth. “Tsukki, babe, this is really hot but —”</p><p>Tsukishima leans back, flushed red. He adjusts his glasses and glares. “What.” </p><p>“I like you.” </p><p>Tsukishima’s heart fucking leaps into his throat. He slowly uncurls his fists, smoothing out the penguin poncho against Bokuto’s broad chest. “That’s...good. This would be embarrassing if you didn’t.” </p><p>“Do you like me?” The intensity in his eyes would rattle lesser men, but Tsukishima stared down Ushijima without flinching. </p><p>“Of course,” Tsukishima says hotly, poking him in the chest. “I would never kiss a grown man in a penguin jacket if I didn’t like him.” </p><p>“It’s a pretty cool jacket, right?” </p><p>“It is very much not.” </p><p>“I’m buying it.” </p><p>“It doesn’t even fit you.” </p><p>“You like it.” Bokuto is full-on beaming, squeezing Tsukishima, happy and attractive and pleased with himself. “You like me and you like my penguins.” </p><p>Tsukishima huffs, eyes rolling to the ceiling. He is aware that people are starting to stare, that they look absolutely ridiculous. He is aware that Bokuto is going to buy the fucking penguin thing and probably wear it out of the store. He is aware that he will insist on another photo op, and that Tsukishima will try very hard not to smile, and probably fail. </p><p>“I like you,” he mumbles, fiddling with poncho’s drawstrings. “This is an affront to God.” </p><p>“Would you like it if we had matching ones?” </p><p>“No!” </p><p>“Would you like it if I was naked?” </p><p>“Bokuto, we are in public.” </p><p>A delighted laugh. “You wanna see me naked, you wanna see me na —” </p><p>Tsukishima kisses him again, just to shut him up. </p><p> </p><p># </p><p> </p><p>On the train home, Tsukishima gets two texts. </p><p>One is from Bokuto. </p><p><strong>bo</strong> <em>(18:03):</em> when are u free this week? I’m takin u on the best date ever!!!! </p><p><strong>kei</strong> <em>(18:04):</em> wednesday night. No laser tag. </p><p><strong>bo</strong> <em>(18:04):</em> D: D:<br/>
<strong>bo</strong> <em>(18:04):</em> second date? </p><p><strong>kei</strong> <em>(18:06):</em> if you’re good</p><p>The other is from Kuroo. </p><p><strong>kuroo</strong> <em>(15:49):</em> how was it???? I asked bo but he isn’t responding<br/>
<strong>kuroo</strong> <em>(15:50):</em> if you fed him to the wildlife i think that’s a crime</p><p><strong>kei</strong> <em>(18:06):</em> you think? </p><p><strong>kuroo</strong> <em>(18:06):</em> &gt;:[ </p><p><strong>kei</strong> <em>(18:07):</em> chill</p><p><strong>kei</strong> <em>(18:17):</em> I had fun <br/>
<strong>kei</strong> <em>(18:17):</em> #ZOOTRIP</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks for reading! kudos and comments appreciated! I respond to comments :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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